Cork priest survived torture and found love in Argentina

Their story could have been written for the big screen. Patrick Rice, a young priest from Fermoy and Fátima Cabrera, an Argentinian teacher and catechist, never imagined they would become part of what is known as "the most savage tragedy of Argentine history".

They not only survived kidnapping, beatings, and torture in an Argentinian prison after the coup of 1976, but also carried their love for each other, got married, and raised three children together.

On 11 October 1976, Fr Pat Rice and Fátima Cabrera had just finished their social work at a local church in Buenos Aires. They were walking together when a car pulled up and armed men jumped out. Both were taken away by the Argentinian military police. At the time, the junta that had seized power in the coup saw them as “subversives”.

In police headquarters, Pat was chained, drenched in water, and tortured with electric shocks. From the next room, he could hear Fátima’s screams of pain.

It was only after relentless campaigning and strong international pressure that Irish diplomats were finally allowed to see Pat in prison.

Before that, an Argentinian army officer had warned Fr Pat Rice to tell his visitors “that he had sustained his cuts and bruises falling down stairs. He also told him that if he did not do so he would be found in a block of concrete at the bottom of a river.”

“However, it was plain for anyone to see that he had cigarette burns on the backs of his hands and up both arms,” writes Professor Dermot Keogh in his book ‘Ireland and Argentina in the Twentieth Century’.

“He was then escorted to a room where he was surprised to find Ambassador Lennon and Justin Harman waiting for him. Fr Pat Rice felt unable to say anything about his ordeal: ‘I was quite disorientated and the ambassador realised that it wasn’t in my interests to talk about ill-treatment.’ The ambassador asked him in Irish: ‘An bhfuil tú droch idé?’ (‘Are you being badly treated?’) Remembering a few words in Irish, Rice nodded.”

For his family in Fermoy, Pat’s disappearance was a nightmare. His hometown rallied to demand his freedom. Thousands of letters poured into the Irish embassy in Buenos Aires, pleading for his release. After two long months, Pat Rice was freed. But Fátima remained in prison, only walking free nearly two years later.

When Argentina’s junta collapsed in the early 1980s, Fr Rice returned to Buenos Aires. Eight years after his abduction, he saw Fátima again. In 1985, he made the life-changing decision to leave the priesthood. He and Fátima married, and together they built a family and a future.

They had three children and never stopped their fight for human rights.

“He used to say to us – ‘We’ve survived for a reason, we have to tell what happened to us, so it won’t happen to anyone else,’” recalls their daughter Blanca.

“They went through a lot in life, but they were always very aware there was a reason for it.”

Blanca moved to Ireland from Argentina two years ago and has since reconnected with her family in Fermoy. Her mother, Fátima, and her siblings, Carlos and Amy, are still living in Buenos Aires.

Pat Rice passed away in 2010. He suffered a sudden cardiac arrest while changing planes in the US on his way from Ireland back to Argentina.

Blanca remembers that, at home, they always spoke Spanish. “It was hard for my dad to speak English in Argentina when nobody around understood the language,” she said. She learned English anyway, though she admits she still sometimes struggles to find the right words.

But her parents taught her another language, one that needed no translation: the language of justice, equality, and dignity.

“We always grew up in a family with those values. They’ve brought us up as free people,” Blanca says. “My sister Amy studied political science and worked on gender equality. My brother Carlos studied communications and filmmaking, and he’s still working for a memorial centre in Argentina. We are all connected to social work and human rights.”

Blanca herself is a visual artist, mural painter, and art teacher. She works under the name Libertad — meaning Liberty.

Earlier this year, she held an exhibition in Fermoy, her father’s hometown. She called it Céad Míle Fáilte, inspired by the hundreds of letters sent to Argentina in the 1970s demanding her father’s release. Pat Rice kept every one of them.

“Seeing these letters later in his archives was incredibly powerful. It inspired the name of my exhibitions as a tribute to the community that supported him. It was a reminder that individual and collective action really matters,” Blanca said. “Art is a way to say thank you, keep history alive, and inspire action.”

She also chose an Irish title for her exhibition to honour the first words spoken by diplomats that helped expose her father’s torture.

“Irish language is very significant to me. It became a language of resistance and identity, and culture.”

Her exhibition Céad Míle Fáilte has turned into a campaign, inspired by the life of her parents and their fight for freedom. Apart from Fermoy, the exhibition was hosted by Blackwater Valley Makers in March.

Blanca also spoke about her father at the Spirit of Mother Jones Festival, held in Cork this year.

Her parents’ story continues to shape her own work. “Even when I see what’s happening in Ukraine or Gaza, I reflect on my parents’ legacy. It reminds me that we must act, remember, and support each other. That’s the lesson I carry forward, and that I aim to share through my art and storytelling.”

Today Blanca teaches art in Fermoy and spends as much time as possible with her Irish family. Her murals now colour walls across Cork — Douglas Street Community, South Parish, Ballinlough, Knocknahenny, Clondulane, Fermoy — telling stories through images and memory.

But every December she returns to Argentina. She goes home to see her family — and to catch a little summer sunshine.